


all this feels strange and untrue

by benjanninsolo



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benjanninsolo/pseuds/benjanninsolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The doctors say she’s lucky she survived. The fall from the second story window would’ve, should’ve, been fatal, but thanks to the padding provided by the mattresses out on the sidewalk for pickup, she’d only wound up with her arm in a sling and a cast from her left thigh down to her left ankle. Oh, and she couldn’t remember a single detail of the last four years, either." Set in S5, established Castle/Beckett relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all this feels strange and untrue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom, and I haven't seen the entire series yet (I've seen maybe 20 episodes, give or take a few), so hopefully it's relatively within character!
> 
> Dedicated to Cait, for giving me the prompt "Castle/Beckett + Remember Me" over on Tumblr.

“The ‘Muse’ is not an artistic mystery, but a mathematical equation. The gift are those ideas you think of as you drift to sleep. The giver is that one you think of when you first awake.” ― Roman Payne

 

The doctors say she’s lucky she survived. The fall from the second story window would’ve, should’ve, been fatal, but thanks to the padding provided by the mattresses out on the sidewalk for pickup, she’d only wound up with her arm in a sling and a cast from her left thigh down to her left ankle.

Oh, and she couldn’t remember a single detail of the last four years, either.

She’s unconscious when he arrives at her hospital room, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a plastic bag clutched tightly in the other. He thinks of the last time they were here, how it was too recent for this to be happening again. He’s already almost lost her more times than he could count. (Except that’s not true at all, and he knows it, because each day spent away from her is vividly marred by pain and misery within his heart.)

But things are different now. He can’t let her slip through his fingers, because this time, she’s his.

He sits down in the chair at her bedside and sets the flowers aside. After placing the plastic bag in his lap, he rummages around inside and withdraws the book he’s looking for. He has a plan, in spite of the fact that he knows his actions will more than likely be in vain. But not even that stops him, because after all, what’s a writer without his muse?

***

It’s 9:00 AM when he arrives, and he’s halfway through reading _Heat Rises_ aloud when the nurse stops by at 11:00 PM to let him know that visiting hours are over. He manages a tight-lipped smile, but nods in affirmation, shutting the book and setting it on the end table beside the bouquet. He gets to his feet and leans over the bed a little, brushing his lips against her hairline and murmuring a choked, “Come back to me, Kate.”

His eyes are glassy when he stands, but by the time he exits the room he’s as composed as he could possibly be, given the circumstances.

When he gets home at midnight, Alexis is there. Her bags are by the couch, and before he can even think to ask her what she’s doing home from Columbia (and what she’s doing awake at this hour, because he is her father after all), she runs over to him and pulls him into a hug. He stumbles a little, wrapping his arms around her in return, and in the blink of an eye, his walls come crashing down.

They make their way to the couch and spend the rest of the night huddled together there, Castle’s soft cries eventually giving way to leveled off breathing and the occasional murmur of _Kate_ as he finds himself consumed by dreams.

***

When he wakes the next day, it’s noon. He doesn’t stop to eat anything despite all of Alexis’s protests for him to join her and Martha for brunch. He’s out the door by 12:15 and at the hospital by 12:45.

Espo and Ryan are visiting with Kate when he arrives, but what makes him stop in his tracks is the simple realization that she’s awake.

Not only is she awake, she also happens to be reading _Heat Rises_ on her own now, a thin chunk of pages between where her thumb rests and the end of the book.

Ryan gets up to greet him at the door, filling him in on her current state. She’ll need to be on leave for at least ten weeks for the leg to heal, plus another month for physical therapy for both her arm and leg. It’s a long time for Castle to be without her at his side, and he’s about to ask a question when Ryan asks him to step out into the hall with him.

The memory loss is more severe than they had thought. Typically, victims of severe post-traumatic amnesia would only take 24 hours to recover, but in some cases (severer than severe?), when the subject in question had suffered concussions before, it could take days—weeks, even—for things to return to something remotely similar to the way they had been before.

Castle looks away from Ryan for a moment and glances in through the window of the hospital room’s door. Kate is still reading, a smile on her lips, her brow creased in thought. “She’s in there somewhere. I know she is. I’m not giving up on her, and I’m sure as hell not leaving her, so don’t even try to suggest it.” He turns to face Ryan again, who merely has his hands raised at both sides, before telling him he’s going to go find them some coffee, since it’s going to be a long day.

Castle nods, then turns to head back into the room, greeted by the love of his life who regards him as a stranger.

A very long day indeed.

***

As far as Kate knows, he’s someone that the precinct and the hospital have hired to keep an eye on her. His name is Richard, he’s from a suburb just outside of Los Angeles, and he’s technically not a doctor, but he plays a mean game of _Operation_. He also has a daughter, but he doesn’t like to talk about her mother, so Kate never asks.

He’s spent a week and a half at her side, watching episodes of _Temptation Lane_ and eating Chinese takeout, and she still doesn’t remember a thing. About him, and them, that is.

Espo and Ryan stop by and she remembers them just fine, lapses into familiar conversation habitually and thanks them for their gifts. But Castle is still foreign. He’s a kind stranger with a charming smile and a way with words, and that’s what hurts the most at night when he falls asleep in the arm chair in her bedroom with his laptop open on the ottoman.

***

Two weeks after the day of the accident, Kate asks for coffee. He’s not sure if she’s allowed to have caffeine, if it mixes poorly with any of her medications, so he checks with the doctors, and once they give him the okay, he finds himself in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot.

He flips the TV on for some noise, letting the news wash over him and keeping most of his attention on finding them two mugs. After doing so, he heads to the fridge for some creamer, and smiles to himself as a thought occurs to him.

It takes him a little while since it’s just a normal coffee machine and not a cappuccino maker, but with a little hard work and a lot of patience, it pays off.

He returns to the bedroom to find her setting down the newly finished _Deadly Heat_. She’s the first one to read the final draft, but he won’t let her know that. As he meets her eyes, he notices something different about her, something that hadn’t been there ten minutes prior, but he brushes it off as wishful thinking. He hands her the coffee mug with a hopeful smile and bright eyes, before reclaiming his spot in the arm chair across from her and taking a much needed sip of his own coffee.

She smiles her thanks and looks down at the ceramic mug to blow on it, but when she does, something changes. She blinks a few times as a grin slowly pulls at her lips, the delicate white heart made from cream amidst the vast sea of coffee striking a familiar chord within her. “Castle, how many times have I told you not to play with your food?”

He chokes on the sip of coffee he’s only just taken, but the persistent cough is more than worth it if only for the look in her eyes and the long missed sound of her laughter. He sets his mug aside and gets to his feet, crossing over to sit on the edge of her bed and cup her cheek in his hand, into which she nuzzles gratefully. For the first time in quite a while, he’s unsure of what to say, and so is she, but it’s Castle who finally speaks.

“Technically speaking, I was playing with _your_ food.”

With her good hand, she smacks his upper arm, but all is soon forgotten and forgiven as they lean in and find each other’s lips for what feels like the first time in years


End file.
